


Ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with?

by Xabisgirl



Category: Men’s Football RPF
Genre: Caring, Comfort, Crush, M/M, Yearning, older/younger, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xabisgirl/pseuds/Xabisgirl
Summary: Virgil van Dijk had a problem. A 6’2, 77 kg problem with turned-down chocolate brown eyes and a solemn expression





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These two kill me. That video where Virgil finds out about Joe’s new contract and hugs him and ruffles his hair? Mainly though it’s the look Joe gives him right at the end. So much hero worship!
> 
> Older readers may recognise the title comes from one of the best pop songs ever written. RIP Pete Shelley.

Virgil van Dijk had a problem. A 6’2, 77 kg problem with turned-down chocolate brown eyes and a solemn expression, until a sudden smile transformed his face. The problem wasn’t that he was playing next to him in Liverpool’s defence. Far from it, Joe was playing really well and they were forming a formidable defensive partnership. It wasn’t that they didn’t get on, in fact they had become good mates, laughing and joking every day in training, DMing each other funny tweets and leaving daft comments on each other’s Instas.

The problem was Joe’s massive crush on him. He followed Virgil round like a puppy, could always be found as close as possible to him, whether at lunch, in team meetings, on away trips, in the dressing room. He hung on Virgil’s every word, laughed loudest at all his jokes and had even taken to fetching his energy drinks for him. Not that this wasn’t nice, Virgil was as partial as the next man to a bit of adoration. No, the real issue was that Virgil reciprocated Joe’s feelings. He got that little leap of the heart when the younger man looked at him, couldn’t resist checking out his body in the changing room (and boy did he like what he saw, Joe having filled out and put on some muscle while he’d been rehabilitating from his ACL injury), and he’d fantasised about having sex with him more than a few times.

But Virgil just couldn’t take advantage of Joe’s feelings like that. He was only a kid still, just a baby really, and Virgil wasn’t that kind of guy. In fact, he was the very opposite of that kind of guy, had always taken responsibility for those around him, looked after them and put their needs before his own. Taking advantage of the hero worship of an innocent boy for his own sexual gratification just wasn’t a Virgil Van Dijk thing to do. “What if it’s more than sex?” his traitorous mind asked. “What if you love him?” The sensible part of his brain stamped down firmly on this thought. Joe had a crush, it was being magnified by proximity and how well they dovetailed on the pitch. He’d get over it and things would move on. Virgil had had this sort of thing happen before. With his size, good looks, athleticism and charisma, most of the people he met fell a little bit in love with him and he’d learned to deflect the attention graciously. His own feelings would just have to be suppressed.

==========

Joe Gomez was confused. It had started with wanting to be close to Virgil all the time, to make him laugh that infectious laugh, get a hug after a goal-saving challenge, just soak up all the Virgilness he could. He loved playing with him, was in awe of Virgil’s abilities, strength and speed. How he could intuit a threat to Liverpool’s goal and cut it off in a couple of paces, how he effortlessly dominated everyone aerially on set pieces, how he could start the team’s flowing forward moves with a flick of his size 12 boots.

But now Joe’s feelings seemed to have morphed into something else, something new. He’d started off wanting to be Virgil, or as like him as possible. Now Joe wanted to be with Virgil all the time, to have his attention, win his approval. He could hardly take his eyes off Virgil, just wanted to drink in his elegant length of limb, the sleek muscles, the surprisingly bashful smile.

To his surprise, Joe had even started to fantasise what sex with Virgil would be like. He had started to wonder what it would feel like to touch Virgil, to run his hands over the older man’s smooth chest, to be held in his strong arms, how his lips would taste, how Virgil would look with his hair freed from its customary bindings as he reared over Joe lying beneath him. He’d started sneaking glimpses in the changing rooms and showers, couldn’t get enough of looking at Virgil’s taut ass, his sculpted chest and even, on one memorable occasion, the heavy cock hanging between his muscular legs. It had obviously not been hard at the time, but in Joe’s imagination it was endlessly hard as Virgil pumped it inside him or fucked into his mouth. His fantasies had become so fevered and graphic, and he’d made himself come so many times through thoughts of Virgil, that he’d started to blush and stutter in his presence like a bashful adolescent.

=============

This was killing Virgil. Joe’s soft cheeks sweetly staining red, his eyes dropping bashfully and the unintentionally coquettish glances up through the thick eyelashes. Virgil loved that, it made him want to shatter that innocence, to kiss the shyness out of Joe’s mouth, to make him quiver with desire, to use his mouth and fingers and dick on him until the younger man could only beg for more, until he lay ruined in his arms. 

Shit, Virgil thought. He was getting in deeper every day, succumbing more and more to the easy temptation of being adored. He was only human, how was he supposed to resist this gorgeous boy, all blushes and gangly limbs? Joe’s attempts to hide his feelings made him clumsy in Virgil’s presence, he’d bash his head on an open locker or trip over his slides. Virgil wanted to take Joe in his arms and stroke his back and sides until he calmed like a newly petted rescue dog, until his breathing slowed and his head dropped onto Virgil’s shoulder.

No, Virgil told himself, this would not do. He needed to snap out of this, needed to be professional, to treat Joe like any other teammate, forget that he’d ever thought of fucking him into an incoherent mess, taking him apart only to put him back together afterwards with tender kisses and silly endearments. Fuck, there he went again, caught in the ridiculously contradictory feelings Joe roused in him, aching tenderness on the one hand - sometimes he wanted to kiss Joe’s eyelids until he’d kissed away that slightly anxious expression of his, and aching lust on the other - imagining what the boy’s soft lips would look like, stretched around his rock hard cock...

Virgil shook his head angrily, as if he could shake the thoughts out of it. He had to stop it, he told himself. He just had to wait it out, Joe would get over his crush, Virgil could find a man of his own age and experience, and he and Joe could get on with becoming a legendary defensive partnership for Liverpool. It sounded so sensible when he put it like that. 

==========

Burnley. Away. A night game under the harsh floodlights. A cold, wet night and a greasy playing surface. A team who knew their only chance against Liverpool’s superior skill was to “make it physical”. Still, it wasn’t like Ben Mee meant to clatter into Joe so hard that their momentum took them into the advertising hoardings and Joe had to be stretchered off, was it? 

Virgil tried to put the sad sight out of his mind. He had a job to do and it wouldn’t make Joe feel any better if the team lost as well. But as soon as the final whistle blew, the only thing on his mind was finding out how Joe was doing. His heart sank as he entered the dressing room to find no trace of Joe - if he’d been taken to hospital it must be serious. “Where’ve they taken him?” he asked the physio anxiously. On finding it was the local A&E, he went off to find Klopp and ask if he could go and check how Joe was doing. The shrewd German saw the concern in the Dutchman’s eyes - very little to do with his players’ moods and feelings escaped him - and allowed him to miss his cool down for once. 

When Virgil arrived at the hospital he began to feel a bit nervous. It wasn’t usual for players to visit their injured teammates, at least not immediately after the injury. But his worry for Joe overcame that, as well as a strange feeling that Joe needed him. He eventually found the right department after walking down what seemed like miles of corridors of squeaky linoleum in drab institutional colours. 

The nurse at the admission desk was reluctant to let him see Joe, but Liverpool’s medic came out of a side room and said, “Oh, Virgil, I’m glad you’re here, he’s been asking for you.” 

Virgil found this a bit strange, but asked quickly, “How is he, how’s his leg?” The doctor grimaced and said, “Well, we don’t know yet, but it doesn’t look great. He’s in a lot of pain, they’ve had to give him some morphine. He’s a bit out of it.” 

As Virgil entered the room, he was shocked at how small Joe looked in his hospital gown against the white sheets. “Hey, Joe, how are you?”, he started, but Joe interrupted him.

“Virg!” he slurred. “C’m’ere.” Virgil went over and started to sit down in the chair by the bed, but Joe murmured, sleepily but forcefully, “No, sit here, w’me. Need you...”

Virgil sat down on the bed next to Joe. “Wan’you...hold me” Joe managed. Virgil ended up half sitting, half lying on the bed, his arm round Joe’s shoulder, Joe’s head resting on his chest. Joe was quiet for a while and Virgil thought he’d gone to sleep, but then he muttered, without any sense of giving away secrets, “S’nice, this. Good as I though’ it’d be.”

“Sshh, Joey, it’s ok”, Virgil whispered, the pet name coming easily to his lips and his hand automatically rising to stroke Joe’s face. Joe nuzzled his head further into Virgil’s shoulder. “Love you so much”, he said. “Wan’...wan’ you...” Virgil knew how mortified Joe would be if he remembered any of this in the morning, but for the moment he held him a little tighter, his treacherous heart beating so hard under Joe’s cheek he thought the boy must surely feel it.

When Virgil looked back on that evening he wondered if morphine-induced disinhibition was catching. He’d lain there, still in his club tracksuit, holding Joe in his arms while nurses, doctors and technicians came in and out. None of them had batted an eyelid at the two of them and he guessed Burnley A&E must’ve seen stranger sights on a regular basis.

Joe kept dozing off and then waking up, telling Virgil more about how much he loved him each time. “I know, baby”, Virgil soothed. “Try and go back to sleep, huh?” Once Joe had dropped off again, Virgil slipped his free hand in his pocket for his phone. He took a quick photo of them, hating himself for taking advantage of Joe’s unconscious state but knowing he’d want to remember this night if it was all he ever had. 

Eventually the results of Joe’s x-rays came back. As usual, they’d need to wait for the swelling to go down before reaching a definitive diagnosis, but it looked like a minor fracture of the ankle. After Joe had had an air cast fitted to protect his leg, he was free to go. The club coach had long ago left, of course, but the club had sent a people carrier to pick them up. 

Back at Joe’s house, Virgil and the doc got him settled in bed. “I can stay with him, if you want to get home”, offered the doctor. “No, I think he wants me to stay. I’ll look after him”, Virgil said. If the doc thought this was strange he showed no signs of it and left, promising to come back in the morning to take Joe for further tests. 

“Virg!” Joe called. “It hurts”. He pouted up at Virgil. “Ok, kid. They said I can give you some more painkillers if you need them.” He helped Joe wash the drugs down with some water, and then, at Joe’s insistence, they settled back down into much the same position they’d been in in hospital. 

“Thank you”, Joe murmured. “Bein’ here w’me. Love you so much.”

Virgil kissed the top of Joe’s head and petted his shoulder. “Shh, try and sleep now. I’ve got you. It’ll feel better in the morning.” He kept up a steady stream of reassurances until, worn out from everything that had happened and the strong drugs still in his system, Joe fell asleep. Virgil stayed awake. He might not get the chance to hold Joe like this again and he meant to remember every minute. Of all the ways he’d envisaged being in bed with Joe, this hadn’t been one of them but it was warm and cosy and soft, and Joe’s neediness had roused all his protective instincts. His heart swelled with his feelings for the boy in his arms. He pulled Joe tighter to him and sighed. What the fuck was he going to do now?


	2. The morning after the night before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe was having the best dream...

Joe was having the best dream. His head was lying on Virgil’s broad chest, Virgil’s strong arms were wrapped tightly around him and he felt so safe and relaxed and loved. He really didn’t want to wake up but there was something bulky tied round his leg, making it hurt. He shook his leg a bit, trying to get it off, but it was stuck. Moving his leg hurt too, so he stopped. Better to concentrate on his top half, which was so comfortable and warm and protected. But the pain in his foot wasn’t going away and as he gradually surfaced to consciousness he started to remember the night before in patches, the pain of Mee’s tackle, the bright floodlights in his eyes as he was carried off, the sympathetic look in Klopp’s eyes as he passed him on the touch line, the ambulance ride to hospital...it all went a bit hazy after that. 

Suddenly he was wide awake and panicking. His foot...was it badly injured? He tried to sit up, but there were heavy arms round him, holding him down against another body in the bed with him. What the fuck? He looked up and saw Virgil, whose eyes were slowly opening. Virgil? Joe was completely confused. He sat up, breaking free of Virgil’s arms. “Virg? What’s...what’s going on? Why are you here?” He looked down at the air cast on his leg. “What’s happened to my foot?” he nearly screamed.

“Calm down, Joe, it’s okay.” Virgil sat up and put his arm round the boy’s shoulders. “They think you’ve got a small fracture in your ankle, but it’s not serious. It’ll be a few weeks out, not a year.” Virgil knew anxiety about his foot would be uppermost in Joe’s mind and he would be dreading having to spend a year in rehab like he had with his ACL tear. “The doc’s coming this morning to take you for some tests, and the cast is just precautionary.”

Joe processed this for a minute and then his other questions flooded out. “Why are you here, though? Why are you...in bed with me?” 

Virgil sighed. He hardly knew where to begin to answer that. “How much do you remember of last night”, he asked. Joe thought a bit. “Uh, I remember sliding into the hoardings, and the stretcher, and being in hospital, but..” he tailed off. He had a vague recollection of Virgil being there, and of feeling safe, but beyond that it was a blur.

“They gave you some morphine for the pain and it made you a bit woozy”, Virgil explained.”I came to the hospital to see how you were doing...” He tailed off, the seemingly impossible task of explaining the sequence of events that had led to them waking up in bed together beyond him.

“I was...you were...it was...” he tried again. Shit, he didn’t want to embarrass Joe by telling him what he’d revealed while he’d been under the influence of the drugs, but equally Virgil did not want it to look as if he’d taken advantage of the situation in some sort of pervy way. 

“But how...why did you...I mean...” Joe was bewildered. “I don’t understand. Why are you here? I mean, it’s not...I don’t...” He blushed as he realised he had almost just told Virgil it wasn’t a problem that he was in bed with him, had slept in his arms all night. 

Virgil sighed again. Maybe it would be best if he just laid it out straight, described exactly what had happened and hope they could go back to how things had been before. “Ok”, he started. “The morphine made you say things you wouldn’t have otherwise. You said you wanted me to hold you...”

“I...what? In the hospital?” Joe gasped, horrified. “Did...did anyone see?”

“Well, yes, the nurses and doctors...”

Joe hid his face in his hands. “Oh my god”, he muttered. 

“And when we got back to yours, the doc offered to stay with you but you said you wanted me to stay, so I did and then we...” Virgil gestured with his arm in an attempt to explain the whole sleeping position thing. “It’s ok, Joey, I was just helping out. You were so out of it.”

“But...I still don’t...what...what did I say?” Joe asked.  
“Just that you wanted to be held”, Virgil lied. “It was kind of a big brother thing really.” Yeah, he thought to himself, if your big brother wants to fuck your brains out.

Joe leapt at this out Virgil had given him. “Oh, I see. Well, thanks”, he said awkwardly.

“No problem!” Virgil said hurriedly. “Now, can I get you some breakfast?”

“Actually...” Joe blushed even harder. “I really need to pee?” 

“Of course”, Virgil said. “I’ll help you get to the bathroom.” He put his hands under Joe’s armpits and effortlessly lifted him to a standing position, handing him the crutches the hospital had sent home with them. 

Joe managed to get to his en suite well enough but he hadn’t been in there long when there was a crash and a cry of “Shit!” 

“You okay?” Virgil called.

“I’ve dropped one of the bloody crutches”, Joe admitted. 

“Is it okay if I come in and pass it back to you?” Virgil asked.

“Just let me...” Joe hurriedly pulled his underwear back up. Virgil came in and picked up the crutch.

“I think it might be better if you sit down for once? It’s gonna be difficult to balance standing up. Let me help. I won’t look.”

Blushing hard once again, Joe let Virgil hold him steady while he dropped his pants and lowered himself on to the seat. Virgil went out, saying, “Let me know when you’re done.” They reversed the process and Joe finally flopped back on to his bed. 

“This sucks”, he complained.

“I know, baby, but” - Virgil stopped dead, a horrified look on his face at the endearment that had just slipped out. He was about to try and laugh it off, but the expression on Joe’s face stopped him.

“Virgil.” Joe’s voice was calm but insistent. “What the fuck really happened last night? Tell me.”

Virgil had no option left but the truth. “It was the drugs, Joe. You weren’t in your right mind.”

“What. Happened?” Joe asked through gritted teeth.

“You wanted me to hold you. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.” But had he really tried to avoid it, Virgil asked himself. “You kept saying you loved me...and stuff.”

Joe blushed for the third time that morning, but this time even harder than before. He hung his head and thought he’d never been so embarrassed in his life. 

“It’s okay”, Virgil told him. “I know it was the drugs talking. We can just forget about...” He stopped, as he noticed a tear falling onto Joe’s hand. “Joey”, he said helplessly.

The younger man muttered something Virgil didn’t catch. “What did you say?” he asked.

“I said, ‘It wasn’t the drugs.’” Joe mumbled. Then he grew braver and looked up at Virgil, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I do love you.”

“Oh, Joe!” Virgil exclaimed. “You’ve got a crush on me, but you don’t” -

“Don’t tell me I don’t love you!” Joe said fiercely. “And anyway, no one made you hold me, or stay the night or call me “baby” or “Joey”. You have feelings for me, I know you do”, he finished defiantly. 

What could Virgil say? He looked at his behaviour the night before. It was true, he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He could have moved when Joe was asleep in the hospital, or he could have let the team doctor look after Joe overnight, or he could, especially, have got out of bed before Joe woke up in the morning. He felt ashamed of himself. 

“I’m sorry, Joe. You’re right, no one made me. I...I wanted to”, he admitted. “I shouldn’t have, it was wrong to take advantage when you were in that state. I was trying to help...” Honesty compelled him to add, “But I did want to too.”

Joe looked at him with so much hope shining in his eyes that Virgil felt even worse. “Don’t, Joe”, he said. “It wouldn’t work. You know that. I’m too old” -

“Six years!” Joe spat. “It’s nothing!”

“There’s a big difference between 20 and 26”, Virgil said heavily. “And anyway, we’d have to keep it a secret, and what if it affected us on the pitch?”

“You think this won’t?” Joe asked bitterly. “Not that that’s going to be a problem for me for a while.” He slapped his injured leg. Virgil caught his hand to stop him doing it again, but Joe twisted his hand so he was holding Virgil’s hand instead. He brought it up to his face and rubbed it against his cheek.

“Joe”, Virgil said brokenly. “It’s not right, I can’t, no matter how much...” He left the words “I want to” unsaid and pulled his hand away.

The doorbell rang, startling them both. “That’ll be the doc”, Virgil said. “I’ll let him in.” He sped downstairs, guiltily glad of an excuse to get away from the uncomfortable conversation. 

They didn’t have a chance to talk privately again that day, but later Virgil texted Joe to ask how the tests on his ankle had gone. When his phone beeped with the return text he stared down at it in dismay.

“Fuck off”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, especially people who comment. I love comments like Virgil loves clean sheets!


	3. Sweet dreams are made of this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Virgil overcome his scruples?

Virgil hadn’t slept well. He kept going over and over what had happened with Joe and thinking about what he could have done differently, and what he should do now. He had to make it right between them, somehow. Joe had to trust him again, not least so they could play well together again when Joe was fit. 

Did he regret what had happened, Virgil asked himself. Yes, he did, insofar as Joe had been upset afterwards, but not, he admitted, when he thought about how it had felt to hold Joe, to call him pet names, even to drop a kiss where the smooth skin of his temple met his hairline. Somehow, Virgil’s arms and chest still held an echo of the heavy, relaxed weight of Joe’s body, resting on Virgil with complete trust and innocence. He couldn’t regret having the chance to hold Joe in his arms, to take care of him like that. 

Virgil took out his phone and looked at the photo he’d taken in Joe’s hospital bed. He noted the sweep of Joe’s long eyelashes on his cheek as he slept, the fullness of his slightly parted lips, the curve of his cheekbone. He wanted to skim the pad of his thumb along the arch of Joe’s eyebrow, skate down his cheek and tip his chin up so he could kiss that soft inviting mouth. He imagined how it would feel to slip his tongue between Joe’s lips, how Joe would wake up and start kissing him back, how he would be able to feel Joe’s dick getting harder against his thigh, and how they would start grinding their bodies together...Virgil was getting hard just thinking like this and he palmed his growing erection through his sweats. The soft material of his briefs felt good as it slid over his cock, and Virgil increased the pressure and speed of his hand. 

He wasn’t far off coming, visions of Joe on his knees in front of him dancing through his mind, when the doorbell rang. He was ready to ignore it and carry on with his wank, because it was never anyone important unannounced, but whoever it was kept on ringing, and ringing and ringing.

Virgil flung open the door, ready to give the interloper a piece of his mind, but his invective died on his tongue as he realised it was Joe, on crutches, looking uncertainly at him. 

“Joe?”, Virgil managed. 

“Hi”, Joe said. “Is this a bad time?” 

Unthinkingly, Virgil glanced down at his groin, but fortunately his erection had subsided by this point. “Er, no, no it’s not”, he said. “Um, come in?” Joe crutched his way into the house slowly and Virgil showed him into his front room. “Can I get you a drink?”, he asked politely, but his mind was racing. What did Joe want? Was his foot okay? Had Joe forgiven him? How cute did Joe look in his tight T-shirt and jeans, damn him? 

Given they’d spent the night together, albeit chastely, not 48 hours ago, Virgil felt unaccustomedly shy. By the time he’d fetched Joe some iced water and asked how his foot was (okay, but four to five weeks out) and how he’d got to Virgil’s house (by cab), an uncomfortable silence had fallen. 

“Joe?” Virgil asked, as the young defender kept his eyes cast down. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

Eventually, Joe lifted his head and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off.”

“That’s all right”, Virgil said. “I probably deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t!”, burst out Joe, “I know you were only trying to help. I hadn’t realised I was so out of it. It’s just...I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone, let alone a...” He ground to a halt, blushing furiously.

Virgil felt every single day of the six years age difference between them. “A man?”, he asked, softly.

“Yeah”, Joe mumbled. “I don’t know what to do, Virg. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He dropped his head again and Virg’s heart melted.

“Oh, baby”, he said, before he realised what he was saying. “I’m sorry. You know I...” he searched for the right words and settled on the hugely inadequate “...like you too. But...”

“But what? What exactly is your problem with this? With me?”

“I don’t want to take advantage”, Virgil admitted.

“I’m 20 years old!”, Joe said. “It’s not like I’m 16. Can’t you respect that I know how I feel?”

“Joe. Joey. You couldn’t say you had feelings for a man, a minute ago. I can’t take advantage of this crush you have on me.”

“Why not, if I want you to?”, Joe demanded fiercely. Anger dissipated his shyness. “Why not? You’re not going to lie to me, lead me on or anything, are you? If I go into it with my eyes open, where’s the harm? We’re both grown ups, if we want to sleep with each other, why the hell shouldn’t we?”

Virgil thought for a moment. He badly wanted to close the distance between them and take Joe in his arms again. But, he realised, he was frightened. It was his turn to drop his eyes to the floor. “I’m scared you’ll break my heart, Joe. And I don’t think I could take it.”

Joe stared at him in amazement. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear from the big man in front of him. 

“Virgil?”, he said softly. “I can’t make any promises for the future - who really can, at the beginning of something? - but I swear, if you don’t come over here and kiss me right this minute, I will come over to you, broken foot be damned. And you’ll have to explain why I’ve been walking on it to the physios.”

Virgil’s resistance began to crumble. If this beautiful boy wanted him, with his eyes open, why shouldn’t he have him? Why shouldn’t he at least try and see what happened between them?

Before he could second-guess himself anymore, he moved over to Joe’s side and stared into his eyes. “You’re sure...?”, he started. 

“Fuck’s sake, Virg! The only thing I’ve been more certain about was signing for Liverpool.” With that, Joe reached his hands behind Virgil’s head and pressed his mouth to Virgil’s. Full, soft lips met full, soft lips, and Joe sank into the kiss. Far from feeling weird, it felt unbelievably good, even the slight tickle of Virgil’s beard felt strangely familiar. Tentative tongue touched tentative tongue, and it soon became a full-on sloppy open-mouthed kiss, as Virgil took the younger man in his arms. They finally broke apart, panting slightly and gazing into each others’ eyes. 

“Oh my god”, muttered Virgil.

“I know”, said Joe, and moved in for more. 

Virgil lost track of time as they made out like teenagers, which Joe had been not very long ago, he reminded himself. It gave him a momentary pang, but then he looked at Joe, his lips puffy and red from kissing, his eyes dazed and his pupils dilated. He looked so good like that, Virgil thought. How beautiful would he look fucked out, he wondered. 

Virgil did what he’d dreamed of doing earlier, and skimmed the pad of his thumb along Joe’s left eyebrow, down his cheekbone and over his lips. But the reality was even better than the dream as Joe opened his mouth and captured Virgil’s thumb, sucking gently on it at first, and then harder, and then breaking off to moan so filthily it went straight to Virgil’s cock. 

Virgil had just slipped his hands up underneath Joe’s T-shirt, stroking his warm soft skin, when a sudden electronic beeping started. Joe fished his phone out of his trouser pocket and the noise stopped. “Oh shit”, he muttered. “I forgot, I’ve got physio this afternoon. I have to go.”

He looked so woebegone Virgil had to laugh, even though he didn’t want to stop what they were doing either. “Gotta do what you’ve gotta do, kid. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I can cook for us, if you want to come back afterwards.”

“I’d love that”, Joe said, then blushed at how keen he sounded. He just didn’t seem to have any barriers in front of Virgil, and it was a little scary. But Virgil just grinned and kissed the tip of Joe’s nose. 

“Go and get fit, baby. I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to see Joe back on the pitch before the end of the season.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always very much appreciated.


End file.
